The Hugo Pages

Happy the man, busy with eternal destiny,Who, like a traveler who leaves late in the morning,Awakens, spirit filled with reverie,And from the dawn of the day begins to read and pray!In the measure that he reads, the day comes slowlyAnd builds itself in his soul as well as in the firmament.He sees distinctly in the pale lightThings in his room and others in himself;All sleep in the house; he is alone, he believes,And yet, closing their mouths with a finger to their lips,Behind him, as ecstasy fills him,Smiling angels lean over his book.